


cinema blues

by izabellwit



Category: RWBY
Genre: (but not), Banter, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Movie Night, Politics, Spoilers: Volume 7 (RWBY), Volume 7 (RWBY), WHAT HAPPENED DURING MOVIE NIGHT CRWBY, tell meeeeeee, times are hard but friends make it better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izabellwit/pseuds/izabellwit
Summary: The night of the election, Oscar, Weiss, and Jaune go to the movies. ...Tryto go to the movies, anyway.(Or: in which Oscar is homesick, Weiss worries about election things, and Jaune frets about everything else. Problems aren't so easily avoided.)
Relationships: Jaune Arc & Oscar Pine, Jaune Arc & Weiss Schnee, Oscar Pine & Weiss Schnee
Comments: 14
Kudos: 100





	cinema blues

**Author's Note:**

> Oscar, Weiss, and Jaune are a very strange trio... but also, so fun to write!! I'm trying to get a handle on Team RWBY once fic at a time, haha. I have plans for them, but I need to know how to write them, first...
> 
> So once again, a fic all about bonding, hahaaaa
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!!

“You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to, Weiss.”

It is already evening in the city of Atlas, the sun setting far off behind the distant skyscrapers, all the buildings cast in dark silhouetted shadow. The theater is a hub of light and sound in contrast to the slowly dimming streets— a glowing sign flashes high above, the glass doors shining golden from the sheer wealth of light and noise and fanfare inside. Still, it’s far less crowded than Oscar had expected. In the eve of election day, the great cinema house has been left practically abandoned in favor of political celebrations and late-night distractions. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean the theater is empty. The shortened lines wrap around the building, the air heavy with the smell of hot food, the distant conversations like a constant murmur in his ears. The three of them—Weiss, Jaune, and Oscar—are standing under a bright flashing sign, looking at a list of movie names that mean absolutely nothing, watching the lines move in. 

“I know,” Weiss says, to Jaune. “Which is why I came, because I _did_ want to.” Her arms are crossed, her eyes fixed on the movie board; she’s frowning, slightly, her foot tapping as she reads. Beside her, Jaune looks torn between fond and overwhelmed, and Oscar, a bit ahead of them both, watches the ticket-goers enter the theater, occasionally glancing back at them from the corner of his eye. “If you didn’t want me here, Jaune, _you_ shouldn’t have invited me.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that!” Jaune waves his hands, rapid, laughing almost awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry, that’s not what I meant. You just, uh…” He trails off and cringes. “Look… very… upset?”

Oscar bites his lip at that. He’s noticed that too— Weiss had been almost cheerful on the walk over, news of the on-going election aside, but once they’d arrived her mood had taken a rather sharp nosedive. 

Even now, something furrows at her brow; Weiss glares at the movie board and then squeezes her eyes shut. Oscar regards her with worry. “I’m just—” she says, and then sighs. She brings a hand to her temple, her braid swinging when she shakes her head. “I… don’t have a single clue on what any of these are about.”

Oscar follows her gaze to the movie board, the screens full of new titles and unfamiliar listings. Jaune looks too—and winces. “…Oh.” 

“It makes sense,” Oscar offers, drifting back towards their side. He keeps his eyes on the lines, the bright lights of the screen making him dizzy. “I mean, um, we haven’t exactly been… I mean, we haven’t really had time recently, have we?”

Weiss frowns, still looking annoyed; Jaune is quiet for a moment, considering. “You know,” he starts, thoughtful, “I never really thought about it, but you’re right. We’ve been kind of… really busy this past year, huh. Two years.” He pauses. “ _Ugh_.”

The three of them stand in contemplative silence. Weiss breaks first, sighing heavily, and turns around to walk over and sit down on a nearby bench, her annoyance replaced with exhaustion. Behind them, the election, still on-going, flashes the current poll numbers—60 to Robyn, 40 to Jacques. Weiss looks at the screen for a long moment, and doesn’t seem the slightest bit comforted.

“I didn’t even pay attention,” she admits, at last, eyes still on the election counter. “Even when I was home…”

“Always felt like there were more important things to do,” Jaune agrees, voice a little soft. He and Oscar share a brief look. Jaune nods first, silent agreement, and settles down next to Weiss. He watches the election news too, for a moment—lips tight and brow furrowed, eyes dropping down as if he could peer through the city floors and see straight down to Mantle. Oscar drifts beside them, unsure of what to say, hating the looks on their faces. He bites his lip and shuffles on his feet, and goes back to watching the theater.

The silence stretches—and then Jaune huffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah, okay. I have no idea what any of these movies are about either.” He rubs his chin. “Okay. Deciding factor. Oscar?”

“Hm?” Oscar is still watching the lines. 

“What movie do you wanna see?”

Oscar shrugs. “What movies do people usually see at a theater?”

“What do you mean, what…” Jaune squints at him. “Oscar.”

“Yeah?”

“What movies have _you_ seen at the theater?”

“Oh,” Oscar says, easily. He tucks his hands under his legs to keep warm and sits down on the bench railing, kicking his feet above the pristine street. Atlas really is far too shiny. It makes something in him ache for the dirt roads and overgrown wildlife of his home. “I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never… what?”

“Been,” Oscar says.

“To the theater?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?”

“No, I’ve seen movies. Just not—”

“At the theater.”

Oscar almost laughs at him. “Yep.”

There’s a long pause. Both Weiss and Jaune are staring. Oscar looks back at them, something like bemused. “I was a farmhand,” he reminds them, honestly befuddled. “Middle of no-where, Mistral? And my Aunt and I, she had some helpers in the busy months but it was really just _us,_ y’know?” Something in him aches at the memory—he hopes she’s doing okay—but Oscar pushes it back as he’s always done, and tilts his head. “The only theater around was two hours away, and it just wasn't worth the Lein, honestly. So, um. Yeah, I have no idea. I only saw movies released for scrolls… and my Aunt liked old-style cinema, anyway.”

“Meaning?”

“ _Lots_ of black-and-white Vacuo Westerns.” 

Weiss puts her head in her hands. Jaune sighs. “Maybe this was a bad idea…”

Oscar winces. “It was a good idea!” he protests, kicking his feet. Gah, it’s cold. “Um, maybe we can just pick a random one?”

“I guess…” Jaune trails off, scratching at his head and leaning back against the bench. “I dunno. Weiss?”

“I mostly just came to get out of the Academy.”

“Yeah…” 

They sit there, the three of them together, watching people mill about. The election booms on behind them, the numbers ticking down and up, constant change. Weiss looks at her hands; Jaune watches the poll numbers, lips pressed. 

Oscar’s eyes linger on the theater, on the faces of the movie-goers. The fancy clothes, the unguarded smiles, soft laughter. It’s fancy in a way that makes his palms itch; he feels out of place here, too small and too—he’s not sure what. Rural? The streets are so clean he feels bad for walking there. 

The more he sees of it, the less he likes Atlas. Haven had been big, but at least Oscar had felt like he fit there, just one of a thousand others. Even Mantle has felt—not welcoming, maybe, but _solid._ There is something about Atlas—maybe the troops, or the silver shine, or just the wealth of it all—that makes him feel the exact opposite. Like the city itself is rejecting him. Oscar can’t imagine living here. It feels more like a prop than a city; a shiny toy instead of a community.

He misses the farm suddenly and surely, a solid ache in his chest. He misses his Aunt. He misses—Mistral, maybe. Home. He’d never wanted to be a farmhand forever, but at least there he’d always known he’d belonged. Oscar has his team, now, has RWBY and Qrow and Maria and the others—but he knows the others feel it too. Atlas and the Academy are beautiful… but it is only barely a home.

He thinks it must cut Weiss deepest of all.

And it is Weiss, then, who decides for them. She tilts her head to Atlas’s clear sky, turned pitch dark and starless from the light pollution, and says, almost a sigh: “Let’s just… not.”

The idea of sitting still in a fancy theater, watching a movie he doesn’t care about and doesn’t know, surrounded by strangers… yeah, no. Oscar shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

Jaune groans. “Movie night’s a bust, then. Man, and I’ll bet everyone else is having a great time, too.”

“We can never tell them about this.”

“Agreed.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, and hops to his feet. “I’m gonna buy popcorn,” he decides. 

“For what?”

“I dunno. People-watching? I’ve never tried theater popcorn, I just want to know.”

“You’ve never had— !? No, no, no, right, I remember now, stop giving me that look— I’m sorry!”

Weiss rolls her eyes and pushes up off the wall. “Come on,” she says to Oscar. “I’ll pay. It’s all going to be stupidly expensive, anyway…”

They’re standing in line and buying food when the channel changes back to the election, the final ten minutes ticking off. Oscar glances at the polls—closer than he thought they would be, honestly—and bites his lip when he glances over at Weiss. Her stare at the monitors is grim. 

“…You okay?”

She glances down at him. “I’m fine.” But her eyes draw back to the monitors. Jaune places a hand at her back. She gives him a look. He smiles at her, sympathetic. Weiss closes her eyes and sighs— and leans, just a little, into the touch. “Just… 47%. They _must_ know he’s never going to do any good, don’t they?”

“Polls will close in a few minutes,” Jaune says, and squeezes her shoulder, a one-armed hug. “It’ll be fine.”

“Mm…”

But Weiss does not seem convinced. 

They walk back outside, sitting on their bench, and Weiss watches the outside screens the whole time, as if reluctant to look away. Oscar munches on popcorn—dry, salty, and not nearly as good as Jaune told him it was, _bleh_ , who would _do_ that to perfectly good corn?—and puts it to the side, pushing it away slowly with the tip of his finger. 

Jaune is still watching Weiss. “Do you wanna head back?”

Weiss shakes her head. “In a bit. Polls close in three minutes, right?” She draws her arms close. “I just…” Together, they watch the numbers tick up. 48%. “I need to be sure.”

Jaune is watching too, now. “You don’t think he’ll really…?”

Oscar watches the numbers tick. 49%. A knot of anxiety has formed in his chest, and he has to force himself to swallow. “Um… what happens if…?”

He can’t finish the question, and none of them can voice an answer. The dread grows. The numbers tick. Weiss closes her eyes, and her breath shudders. “How many more…?”

“…Thirty seconds.”

Her eyes are closed. Her lips twist. The polls shut. The results are read out. Someone in Atlas’s streets stands and cheers. High and hollow laughter in the air. 

Oscar stares at the screen for a very long moment.

At long last, Weiss shakes her head, wordless. She lifts her head with a clenched jaw—eyes bright, her teeth grit, pain in her face and fury in the curl of her hands. Beside her, Jaune looks hollowed, eyes on his feet once again, as if to peer through the Atlas streets to Mantle sitting far below. His whole face twists, anger rising— and then it fades, driven back, resigned. He reaches slowly to his side, and grips the hilt of his sword. “…We should head for Mantle,” he says, subdued.

The Grimm. There is no doubt. Oscar stands too, his heart heavy. For a moment, oddly, he feels strangely distant—not as alone in his head as usual. A grief for Mantle that is more than just his—despair turned two-fold. He reaches out, almost terrified to know. 

_Oz?_

The feeling fades. There is only him. Oscar closes his eyes, lips twisting on a grimace, and unhooks the Long Memory from his back. It’s nothing, probably. Always nothing. He’d just hoped…

But there’s no time for disappointment, or bitterness, or whatever this feeling is. Already he can hear the sirens.

“Somehow I knew it would end up like this,” Weiss says, soft, and lifts her sword. Her expression goes cold, lips thin with determination. The theater, behind them, lies forgotten, flashing lights and laughter like something from a different world— or maybe a dream. “Well. It was nice while it lasted.”

“To Mantle, then,” Jaune says.

“To Mantle,” Oscar echoes, and together they head for the ships. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have many thoughts on Atlas. It looks lovely, from far away!! But I imagine walking those streets would give me hives. I'd feel bad just for standing there!! It's not a place that feels welcoming at all, and I imagine that would hit very hard for our heroes--and for Oscar, especially. Elitism ignites my fight or flight response, haha.
> 
> [If you wanna rec this fic, you can reblog it here!!](https://izaswritings.tumblr.com/post/612590069196488704/title-cinema-blues-fandom-rwby-synopsis-the) Also, if you have any questions or just want to talk, [my tumblr](http://izaswritings.tumblr.com) is always open!!
> 
> Any thoughts??


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